I stick up my *******
And let it linger.
I say hi
And goodbye
With my thicker
Nose-picker.
I fly a bird
That ***** a white ****
On a cold shoulder
That couldn't be colder.

Silent stars reside
In the blue milieu
Continuing their stellar constancy by day.
They are there like my love,
silent, unpretentious, patient and kind. Trace your finger along the sky, like a constellation connecting the dots of your name to a safe, congenial and forgiving place to call home.

Maybe your name will meet with mine in the night when the stars return, walking across the expanse of loving kindness that is within your reach. See you tonight dearest one. Just look up.

The rest of your life has just begun
Time folds itself
A finger on the trigger of a gun
Hand wraps around to help

The moon amidst
the celebrations of stars
still in its proverbial stance
only the eye no fingers!

If there ever a moment of flower
let it be today the rose
in the tips of the fingers!

what can be is be
does not make sense a finger
pointing is not sun

Fly little birdie, fly!
Tell that ***** to get lost
He'll regret the day he saw your face
Or face the hand from which you came

ink flows out of my brain
through my blood vessels
to my soft fingertips.
my hands curl into fists
as I crumple a sheet of paper.
a corner lightly cuts my finger,
and the ink flows onto the page.